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Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Welcome, Nicole. Tell
us how much of yourself you write into your characters.

Maybe I should ask my husband this question? I never intentionally
write myself into a character, but I’ll often have close friends and family
say, “I totally heard your voice when so and so said this or did that, Nicole!”
Haha! That always makes me laugh.

What is the quirkiest
thing you’ve ever done?

I’m pretty quirky so this is a hard one for me to narrow down.
The most recent quirky thing I’ve done is pretend to be an expert in the art of
Mod Podge—which I’m not. Not even close. But as I stood in the aisle of Hobby Lobby next to a
seasoned craftsperson (the kind who actually does those things I pin on Pinterest)
I felt the need to play along. When the woman glanced down at my sorry-looking mess
of supplies and asked what my plans were, I quickly swiped a nearby jar of Mod
Podge and began spew out a list of random artsy-sounding stuff.

Shockingly, I think she believed me. Or maybe she was just
really nice and took pity on me. I’ll never know for sure.

When did you first
discover that you were a writer?

I loved stories from the time I was a young girl—telling
them, reading them, and acting them out. I think somewhere inside me I always
knew I was destined to be a writer, but it wasn’t until I turned thirty that I
put pen to page and wrote my first full-length novel.

Tell us the range of
the kinds of books you enjoy reading.

I’ll pretty much read anything if it has the promise of
romance in it! Yes, I’m really that much of a sap. My favorite genre is
Contemporary Romance, but Young Adult is a close runner-up. I also enjoy
Women’s Fiction and some Fantasy (as long as the love story is strong!)

How do you keep your
sanity in our run, run, run world?

Not sure if I keep my sanity most days, but if I do, it has
everything to do with prioritizing. I’m not so good at that yet, but I’m
learning. Slowly.

Starting my day off with prayer and a good walk and a big dose
of laughter (by texting with my crazy author friends) usually makes for a
pretty great day.

How do you choose
your characters’ names?

Choosing names is usually a completely random process.
Sometimes I have a name in mind, sometimes I ask my readers on my author page,
and sometimes I peruse the ever-knowing Google database for inspiration.

What is the
accomplishment that you are most proud of?

Saying “I do” nearly eleven years ago. My husband has taught
me so much about love through his selflessness and sacrifice. There’s blessing
to be found in commitment.

If you were an
animal, which one would you be, and why?
A bird. Wouldn’t flying be the greatest thing ever? And the worms. Such a good
source of protein. Mmm.

What is your favorite
food?
Coconut. Yep. I’d eat it with every meal if I could.

What has been your greatest
roadblock in writing, and how did you overcome it?
My greatest roadblock in writing came during a family tragedy. Writing during a
season of grief can be very difficult and challenging, but I’m grateful for what
I’ve been able to learn and accomplish within that time. Writing can be so
healing for the soul.

Tell us about A Cliché Christmas.
Writing happy endings is easy. Living one is the hard part.

Georgia Cole—known in Hollywood
as the “Holiday Goddess”—has made a name for herself writing heartwarming
screenplays chock-full of Christmas clichés, but she has yet to experience the
true magic of the season. So, when her eccentric grandmother volunteers her to
direct a pageant at Georgia’s
hometown community theater, she is less than thrilled. To make matters worse,
she’ll be working alongside Weston James, her childhood crush and the one man
she has tried desperately to forget.

Now, facing memories of a lonely childhood and the humiliation of her last
onstage performance, seven years earlier, Georgia is on the verge of a
complete mistletoe meltdown. As Weston attempts to thaw the frozen walls around
her heart, Georgia
endeavors to let go of her fears and give love a second chance. If she does,
will she finally believe that Christmas can be more than a cliché?

Please give us the
first page of the book.I glared at the incessant blinking of my cursor and groaned.

Eleven months of the year, I lived in a perpetual state of
holly-jolly fanfare. But by the time the first of November rolled around, I was
completely Christmased out. I know I sound like a Scrooge to admit such a
travesty, but believe me, when you build a career on Christmas cheer and
holiday hype, the warm fuzzies of nostalgia fade faster than Hollywood’s latest scandal.

When I wrote my first Christmas pageant at nineteen, I had
no idea I was actually sealing my fate. But seven years, a few dozen
screenplays, and three Hallmark movies later, Christmas had become exactly
that. My destiny.

Ironically, December was my only month off. And I took full
advantage of those blessed four weeks, which magically buoyed me for another
year of fa-la-la-la-la-ing.

Since I moved to LA seven years ago, my Nan—short for both Nancy and Nana—and I
traveled to a new tropical destination each year, enjoying sunshine instead of
snow, and hulas instead of caroling. Last Christmas it was a two-week Caribbean
cruise, but this year our nontraditional holiday extravaganza would be a remote
getaway in the Hawaiian Islands.

Clicking out of my latest work in progress entitled Noelle’s First Noel, I navigated through
my newest temptation to procrastinate, a travel website that flung me into a
cyclone of palm trees, sandy beaches, fruity drinks, and—

My phone did the cha-cha across my desk.

Nan.

Today was Tuesday—volunteer day at the senior center. She
never called on Tuesdays.

The balloon of air I was holding inside my chest released. “Hey,
are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine, darlin’. But I did just hear some distressing
news.”

“Is it Mom?” The muscles across my shoulders tightened.

“No, I just spoke to her yesterday. She, Brad, and the twins
are all doing fine.” In true Nan fashion, she
threw an extra dollop of happy onto her last phrase, as if that were all it
took to rewrite the past. “You know my little piano student I brag to you about
all the time—Savannah?”

“Yeah, sure.” My mini panic attack subsided. I clicked on
another picture of a Hawaiian bungalow wrapped in the warm glow of a setting
sun.

“She was just diagnosed with leukemia.”

I stopped clicking. “Oh, Nan.
That’s awful. How old is she again?”

“Only five. And her mother is a widow—I’ve grown very close
to them.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Well, yes, actually . . . I was hoping you’d ask.” Her
voice climbed twelve stories. “I need you to come home for the holidays.”

I pinched my eyes shut and tried to ignore the tantalizing
sound of crashing waves that seemed to lap against my eardrums in perfect time
with my pulse. A part of me wanted to throw a tantrum—as fading images of tiki
torches and spit-roasted pigs danced across my vision—but who could dismiss a
child with cancer?

Scrooge, maybe. But not me.

I can’t wait until my
book comes, so I can finish reading it. How can readers find you on the
Internet?

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